Strange thoughts on this...
History is hard to know, because of all the media bullshit, and hazy memories, but even with being sure of history it seems entirely possible to think that every now and then the energy of a generation can come out in a bust kaleidoscope colors, for no reason that anyone can understand at that time. Nor can ever really explain, in retrospect. My central memory of that time seems to hang on three or four drinks and long nights in coffee houses or very early mornings lights right before dawn.
When I left Veto’s half crazed and twisted, instead of going home, aimed for troll under the Fremont bridge at top speed wearing my navy coat and fade blue Levi jeans… screaming through West Lake Center and FOA bear and the Cinerama… but being absolutely certain that no matter which way I went I would come to a place where people where just a crazed and wild as I was. There was madness in all directions, at any hour. If not in Seattle, then down I-5 to San Fran or LA. You could strike a sparks anywhere
There was a fantastic and universal sense that whatever we were doing was right, and a sense that we were victors over the forces of old and evil. We had all the momentum; we were riding the crest of a high and beautiful wave.
Now seven years later, I surf this beautiful wave on a light blue couch and with out stretched hands and touch the face of God.